When Emma was 11 weeks old, she took her first flight! Gardening Mom, Sister Swimmer, little Em and myself trecked across the country all the way to Delaware for my first traveling-with-a-baby experience (Sister Singer had to stay for her classes).
I had always thought traveling with a baby was a little silly, but color me ignorant when we found out that my
step-Grandmother (though she's never seemed like a
step anything to me) was sick and I couldn't imagine not going to see her with Emma while on my maternity leave. Between her diagnosis and booking our flights was only a few days, and to be honest, it's a good thing we moved so quickly becuse in the weeks that would pass between booking the trip and actually going on the trip, I mustered up quite a lot of anxiety over the entire thing.
I envisioned turbulence and a flying baby (yes, I flew with her on my lap). I had nightmares of her screaming the entire flight. I thought maybe she would enter a growth spurt, and be fussy the entire trip.
What really happened? Our flights were smooth sailing, she slept almost the entirety of both 5+ hours flights with
very short stints of crying when she was hungry, and she was generally a happy baby most of the trip.
Except for the nights. She really worked me good those nights, waking up almost hourly
every night. Something she didn't even do as a brand-new baby home from the hospital. Without my Handsome Husband to help out, I was one
tired mama. But alas, I survived.
My little snow baby
She did have one fun surprise for me in the Philadelphia airport while we waited to board our homeward bound flight. Mid-breastfeeding, she had a total
poopspolsion all. over. me. It soaked out her diaper, through her onesie, through the blanket she was sitting on, and onto my jeans. Imagine my horror when I realized what had happened. Luckily I found a "family" restroom, and went to work cleaning us up. I patted my own back for thinking ahead with not only spare clothes for little miss Em, but a spare outfit for me, too! I got her naked, and myself changed, and not a moment later did she spit up
everywhere. I was eternally grateful to the Spit Up Gods for having her do it at the best possible moment (if there is ever a great moment for spit up, that is), while she was naked. Cleaned
that mess up, turned around to grab a fresh diaper, and
what the fuh, she is lying in a puddle of her own pee. Seeing that she had sufficiently emptied her body of, well...everything, I picked her up and cleaned up yet
another mess of bodily fluids (the joys of motherhood).
Finally, it seemed, I got her dressed and we were on our way. It was
not funny at the time, but gives me a chuckle now that I'm removed from the situation. In the moment though, I wondered what I did in a previous life to deserve
that kind of torture.
In the end, I am
so glad we made the trip. There were difficulties, but it was easier than I thought (especially the flying part!), and Emma got to meet family that it may have been years before she'd gotten a chance to meet otherwise. My Grandmother's health seems to be improving, so we hope there are lots of visits to come!
